Addicts
by Erc
Summary: No real plot, just a little Harm and Mac fluff.


A/N: Plot and I are on the outs, so this story has none…

This story takes place somewhere in late season 7, but the two of them got together then (in my world).

Disclaimer: I own nothing, if you want to sue me, I will gladly split my student loans with you. All mistakes are mine.

Rating: This story has a kinda heated scene and a ton of sexual innuendo. BE WARNED!

** Addicts**

** Harm's Loft**

You watch him plop down on the couch, book in hand, saying he needs to get some reading done today. So you sprawl yourself across the couch, your head in his lap, and start leafing through some of your magazines.

42 minutes later you let out an audible sigh and drop your magazine across your chest. He doesn't even seem to notice. Disappointed, you pick your magazine back up hoping to find something worth reading.

There are days that being curled up on the couch with him for hours, reading, working, hell, even doodling is perfect. Unfortunately, today is not one of those days for you. You feel fidgety, maybe even a little feisty, and you just want to do something.

You flip to the next page and start skimming through an article: _20 Questions to Bring You Closer_. You chuckle at the absurdity of some of the question, and smile at the fact that you already know the answer to nearly half of them. Number 11, however, peaks your interest.

"One question?" you ask, knowing he hates these stupid quizzes.

"As long as it didn't come from that magazine," he states, without moving.

"Come on, Harm, just one," you plead, looking up at him from your resting spot on his lap.

He continues reading his book, ignoring your comment. You reach up and take his book from his hands, setting it on the coffee table. He shakes his head at you and sighs, "Mac, when did you become such a girl?"

"Well," you say, slowly walking your fingers up his chest, "if you just noticed I am a girl, we may have some problems."

He continues to stare at you, faking impatience to goad you. So you continue, adding, "Of course, that could explain why it took us so long to get here."

He rolls his eyes at you and gives you a little smirk, and you know that he is going to surrender. "Fine, but only one."

"Okay," you smile triumphantly, "number 11. If you could describe your significant other with one word, and it must be a noun, what would it be and why?"

"A noun," he says, with a mischievous glimmer. "Like, you hole, me snake?"

" i Harm/i " you utter, sitting up, and playfully swatting at him.

He laughs at your expression, and then asks, "Okay, like what?"

You ponder about it for a minute, trying to decide who would be the best example. "Oh, like saying the Admiral is a bear. He appears ferocious, is protective of his family, you wouldn't want to cross him, but at the end of the day he is all soft and cuddly."

Sensing your playful mood, he banters right back, "You cuddle with the Admiral often, do ya?" Oddly, it is moments like this that make you fall in love with him even more. Moments when you realize he knows you well enough to sense your state of mind _and_ indulge it.

"Don't worry," you tease, "only when you're out of town."

"Okay," he ribs, "as long as he is not taking up my time."

You laugh quietly. Then, you take his hand, and with complete sincerity you say, "It's _all _ your time, you know that."

Nodding his head and gazing into your eyes, he lovingly hums, "Yes, I do."

A second later, he shakes his head, breaking the moment, and says, "Give me one more example."

You tap your finger on your chin, giving him your best let-me-think-about-look. "Ah, you know that new Petty Officer in Judiciary?"

"McNalley?"

"Yeah, she could be a toaster." He cocks one eyebrow and gives you that quizzical look that you love so much. "Well, from what I hear," you say, remembering the conversation you overheard between Gunny and Tiner at the bar on Saturday. They were not being inappropriate, but their attraction to her was obvious, "things have a tendency to 'pop-up' when she's around."

It takes a second to sink it, and you burst out laughing as his eyes bug out of his head.

"Ma-ac."

"You're so easy, Harm," you say, trying to calm the laughter.

"You've never complained about that before," he purrs.

"Oh, I'm not complaining. Just stating the facts."

"Well, I disagree with the toaster analogy. She has no impact on me."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," he says, then leans in and gives you a tender kiss. "There is only one lady that can get a rise out of me."

His piercing look and gentle kiss melt your heart. You have no idea how you survived the majority of your life without him. And now that you have had him, you know you could never go back. For a second, you wonder how any of his past girlfriends survived, you think maybe there is a Harm Anonymous support group out there somewhere. A 12-step program for learning to live without him. You can picture a room full of ladies, there chairs in a circle, sporting blue boas, taking turns talking. 'He was so good at…' 'I know, and don't get me started on…' 'The way that man filled out a pair of jeans.' 'Are you serious, how about the way that man looked _out _ of his jeans?' And in unison, you picture them all saying, 'If only he knew how to communicate!'

"A fax machine," you spit out. You notice his puzzled expression and continue, "You. You're a fax machine." His look changes from confusion to disbelief, so you just continue to ramble on. "Well, you have many uses--fax, copy, scan. Not you, the machine. But you _do _have many skills. You come in handy at work _and at home." _ Trying to contain your laughter, you add, "But, like a fax machine, sometimes you have trouble processing things, making it really difficult to communicate with the outside world."

You give him an amused smile and hop off the couch in search of a drink. You manage to make it two steps before he hauls you up and flings you over his shoulder.

"Harm," you shriek.

He takes the few steps toward his room, drops you in the center of his bed, then falls on top of you.

"Mac," he purrs in your ear, right before he begins nibbling on it. "You don't like…" he pauses, as he meticulously kisses down your neck. "…the way I communicate?"

"Mmmm," is the most coherent thing you can say as he continues to kiss his way down the inside of the V-neck of your shirt.

And just like that, he stops. You open your eyes to see him grinning down at you. "Don't like my communication skills, huh?"

That's the way he wants to play this, you think, fine!

"Harm," you say, trying your hardest to sound serious. You know you pulled it off as you watch his expression grow somber. Maintaining your seriousness, you ask, "Is there a toaster in here?" Confusion spreads across his face, but before he has a chance to process what you said, you drag you hand up his inner thigh, and whisper "'Cause something seems to be poppin' up."

He laughs and rolls onto his back, taking you with him. "You have that affect on me, Mac."

You lay atop him, your chin resting on your hands that are resting on his chest. "I love you."

"I know." He leans his head forward, giving you a quick peck, "I love you, too."

"So, what about me? What's my word?" You're curious to know how he would describe you.

"Baby, I can't think straight right now." The sound of his voice when he calls you 'baby' makes your toes tingle.

"Why not?" you ask, rubbing your body against his.

"That book I was reading," he grins, "I just can't get my mind off it."

You sit up, methodically grinding into him. "Really?" And you pull your shirt over your head.

"Uh huh," he gulps.

You start unhooking your bra, "What is it about?" you ask, tossing your bra on the floor.

"What?" His focus now seems to be on your sides as he glides his hands up and down them.

"The book."

"What book?" And for the life of you, you can't remember. He runs his fingers under the curve of your breast, and you are suddenly unsure of your own name. You look down, into his eyes pooling with desire, and you realize that right now, your name is irrelevant.

You lean down and hungrily take his mouth. He snakes a hand into your hair, greedy for more of you. And you oblige, giving him everything you have.

**Later**

You lay there, together, tangled up in his sheets. Your head resting on his shoulder as you aimlessly play with his chest hair. And, for the second time today, you realize that you would not know how to function without this man in your life. You've been through AA, the 12-step program would not work for getting over Harm.

"Coffee."

You look up at him, startled and mystified by his comment.

"That's what you are to me. Coffee."

"Care to elaborate?"

"First off, you both have this heavenly aroma that I would recognize anywhere. Then, there are those days when you wake up late and you don't have time to grab a cup of coffee. And the entire day just feels off. It drags, almost as if in slow motion, I find it hard to concentrate on those days. That is what my days feel like without you in them." You feel him wrap his arms around you and pull you tighter, and you snuggle your head into the crook of his neck. "Then, there are the days with coffee. I find I have a little more energy, maybe even a bounce in my step. And it's not just in the morning, I could be having a groggy day. Then, at lunch, I have a little, a little coffee or a little you, and my entire day seems to turn around. Plus, you come in caffeinated, like today. Or decaf, like last night when we curled up together and fell asleep watching movies. But you know what the biggest similarity is?"

"Hmm?" you say, tears starting to pool in your eyes. You are awe struck by everything he has said so far. Even more blown away that there could be more.

"Both things are so addictive. Truth is, I crave them, I don't know what I would do without them. In my perfect world, I would wake up with a little of both, every morning, for the rest of my life."

You lift your head up to say something, but you find it difficult to formulate a sentence. As you wipe the tears from your face, he brings his hand in front of you. And more tears come as you notice the diamond solitaire he is holding.

"So, what do you say, will you feed my addiction, forever?"

You nod your head, your voice seems to have left you. You lean in, kissing him, surrendering to your own addiction.

No, no support groups for the two of you, you plan to remain addicts.

The End


End file.
